Ink on the Skin
by DaughteroftheUniverse
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is a simple hobbit. And, like all creatures of Middle Earth, he has a mark, a tattoo of sorts, that will help him find his soul mate. When he moves to an eastern hobbit settlement with his young nephew Frodo, he finds something extraordinary. Bilbo never expected to find his soul mate, and he certainly did not believe it would be a dwarf by the name of Thorin.


**Hey Guys, it's DotUni. Just a quick note. If you've been reading my other fan fiction Fade to Black, I have some good news. I should have the next chapter up before the weekend. Sorry for making you wait, feel free to throw virtual sharp, pointy objects at me. Anyhow, if you see any mistakes please let me know, as neither I nor my beta are perfect. And I am not taking official requests for stories. Just send me a message. :) Hope you enjoy! **

Ink on the Skin

Chapter 1

Bilbo sighed; he was exhausted. It was times like these that he almost wished that he and his nephew had stayed at Bag End in the Shire. Times like these during this long journey where it was the middle of the night and most everyone else was asleep. Often being the only one awake, he was left with little to do other than stare up at the night sky and wonder what would come next.

However, he does not regret his choice to the move to the hobbit settlement outside Erebor. East-Shire was supposed to be very nice and very much like their home back west. He and Frodo needed a chance to start over after the death of Frodo's parents. But the journey was hard on the both of them. Though, he was told earlier this evening that they would arrive within a few days.

"And then it will all be worth it." He said aloud to himself. Though he freely admits it would have been much harder a trip had they not found a caravan of men heading for Dale.

He shuddered at the thought of them travelling alone in the wilderness. Two hobbits such as themselves would be sitting ducks in some of the places they've travelled through (no matter how much of a Took his mother was).

Another shudder ran through him and he started rubbing absentmindedly at his arm; at the bracer that hid his soul mark.

Bilbo began thinking. What if they had died, as they might have if they had been on their own, and he'd never met his Kindred Soul? What if Frodo had never met his either?

'Not that I'll meet mine anyway,' he thought to himself sadly. Most people meet their soul mate within their own race, therefore it was relatively easy to find the person who bore your name. However, Bilbo was not that lucky. He knew that his Kindred Soul was most definitely a dwarf for there were runes instead of the common tongue, the green tongue, or even elven. The runes themselves were of the very bold and blocky type, written in a blue so dark it was almost black.

'But then again,' he thought 'we will be very close to Erebor. Maybe I could find someone to read it for me. Or maybe even- no,' he stopped himself, 'there will be no time for soul mates Bilbo. You need to think of Frodo.'

He took his hand away from his arm and looked down at Frodo, who was curled up against Bilbo's side with his thumb in his mouth. Poor lad was only a fauntling when his parents drowned and wasn't much older now.

'The move will do him good,' he mused, 'a change of scenery and no busybodies *ahem- Lobelia* bothering him, or other hobbits looking at him with pity at every turn. Who am I kidding? This journey will be good for me as well. I may be a Baggins but I could use a fresh start as well.'

With that thought Bilbo turned onto his side, gathered Frodo into his arms and slowly drifted off into sleep.

-Meanwhile in Erebor-

Thorin Oakenshield walked tiredly into his room and flopped down on to his bed. It was a very kingly flop mid you, but a flop nonetheless.

It had been a very trying day. Nobody in the council could seem to agree on anything, and Dwalin had to interfere several times when the situation almost devolved into a fight. The elves of the Greenwood were no better. Going on and on about how they wanted more and more gold in exchange for the goods they were exporting to Erebor.

'Like he was going to give anymore gold than was absolutely necessary to those tree shaggers,' he thought to himself as he got dressed in his nightclothes. He then laid down on his bed once more and proceeded to stare at the vaulted ceilings. Now too tired to dwell any longer on politics, his thoughts drifted to his soul mark and his One. He knew that his one was not a Dwarf because the writing on his arm was in what he thought was the green tongue. Though his skills were rudimentary at best, seeing as those who spoke the green tongue also spoke the common tongue, he believed that he could understand what it said.

He believed that the name was Bilbo Baggins. Definitely **not** a suitable name for a Dwarf. And while he had little to no problems with any of the other races of Middle Earth (except the Greenwood elves of course) it was odd. Odd for the dwarf king of Erebor not to have a soul mate among the dwarf race. But he truly hoped that he met his One. Hopefully it was someone that would allow him to shower them in gold and gems.

Maybe he would meet them on the upcoming diplomatic trip he was going to be taking. They were going to Dale, the elven fortress in the Greenwood, and a place right outside of Erebor. It was a place called East-Shire. He was told that it was settlement of Hobbits. Hobbits were curious and strange creatures from what he'd been told. No interest in fighting at all!

But, no matter; their food was plentiful and delicious. And while they were polite and friendly, they were extremely suspicious of outsiders. So Balin told Thorin it was important to stay on their good side.

Though at the moment he thought little of the emotional sensitivity of Hobbits. He thought more on the possibility of meeting his One among them. He wondered if he would find them in time for the Durin's Day festivities. It would be a great honor if he could announce such news on that most auspicious of days.

He looked down at his mark and marveled at its simplistic nature. It was a relaxed, almost flowing script. The lettering was a forest green with brown outlining. He was almost giddy with anticipation for the coming weeks, or rather the possibility of who he could be meeting. And with that line of thought lulling him into peace, he closed his eyes and dreamt of houses built into the sides of grassy hills and a warm person nestled into his arms.


End file.
